Author: tongue in cheek scribe PM
The Peredhil twins own and operate a travelling Renaissance Faire, employing some of their longtime friends! AU…repeat…AU. NON-CANON. Humor. Rated PG13 for language and adult situations. Please read and review!Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Chapters: 9 - Words: 12,597 - Reviews: 71 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 11-02-04 - Published: 10-05-04 - id: 2084080
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer:I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. Glorfindel: Ahhso my very essence screams "sex", now does it? Me: Yep, it certainly does. Legolas: Hey! If his essence screams "sex", then what does mine scream? Me: Umyours doesn't exactly scream, Legolas. Legolas: What do you mean? My essence screams. It screams really loudly. Me: Yesbut it screams like a little girl. Legolas: I'm going to hurt you now. Me: Eep.
A/N:Thanks to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing! You've helped get me through a very trying month! Happy November, everyone!
The Wenching Tent
Elladan stood in the corner of the wenching tent, smugly watching the crowd filter in, taking their seats on the bleachers that circled the canvas structure.
The wenching contest was, by far, his absolute favorite part of the Faire. After the joust, it was also the most popular with the Faire-goers, as well. At least, with the male Faire-goers. His Elven ears picked up Glorfindel's singing, telling him that the show was about to begin. He straightened his tunic, a crooked smile on his handsome face, as he prepared to meet the contestants that Glorfindel would be presenting to him.
The rules of the wenching contest were simpleeach girl who wished to participate was dressed in a "wench's" costume - a full skirt - short enough to show a lot of leg - and a very low cut peasant blouse. Elladan, serving as the "Lord" would sit on a chair in the center of the tent, and the girls would vie for his attention by any means possible, short of disrobing or touching themselves or the Lord. Privately, Elladan wished that they could get rid of that last rule. Grinning to himself, he thought of the times in the past when the contestants had turned the event into a huge catfight, complete with pulling hair, and dumping pitchers of water on each other. Yes, this was definitely his favorite part of the Faire.
Glorfindel, as the Minstrel, was also responsible for seeing that the girls got into costume, and explaining the rules to them beforehand. He would then lead them into the wenching tent, and present them to the "Lord." Turning his head toward the flap of the tent that led in from the dressing area, Elladan's mouth curved into a large, lascivious grin.
Glorfindel entered the tent first, and came to stand before Elladan. Bowing theatrically, he said In a loud voice so that the entire tent would be able to hear, "My Lord, it is my utmost pleasure to be allowed to present to you the contestants who wish to vie for a place on your household staff. They are truly a sight to behold, My Lord. Each contestant will attempt to win and hold your favor. You will choose your favorite to be hailed as the Wench of the Day. Might I be permitted to present to youThe Wenches!" Glorfindel moved to stand behind Elladan, a firm hand on the Peredhil's shoulder, pinning him to his chair. Elladan frowned a moment, because Glorfindel was supposed to leave the center of the tent once he introduced the wenches.
The flap of canvas that led to the dressing room was lifted and the crowd in the tent went wild as the 'wenches' filed into the open space, heading toward Elladan. Elladan gaped, then tried to stand, but Glorfindel's iron fingers kept him rooted to his seat.
The 'wenches' were, indeed, dressed in short, full skirts, and low cut peasant blouses, bright red lipstick and an over-abundance of blue eyeshadow and blush. They were also bearded, hairy, and very, very large men.
Glorfindel kept a tight rein on his smile, which threatened to crack into a wide grin as he felt Elladan's shoulders tighten under his fingers.
The crowd roared as the "wenches" crowded around Elladan, curtseying with varying degrees of success, and blowing kisses at the red-faced "Lord." One burly man sat on Elladan's lap, running his fingers through 'Dan's hair. Another pulled him off, attempting to take his place. Two others began pulling at Elladan's boots, trying to remove them, as Elladan kicked fiercely, trying to stop them.
One man, dressed in a multi-colored skirt and white peasant blouse, grabbed a bunch of grapes from a bowl set off to the side of the tent and was trying to force feed Elladan the fruit. Elladan, for his part, kept his mouth firmly shut, twisting his head from side to side, trying to escape the man's thick fingers.
The "wenches" who had been pulling at Elladan's feet managed to remove his boots, and were now trying to massage his feet. A difficult task, since Elladan most definitely did not want his feet touched by the two furry men, and was kicking out with all his might.
One extra large "wench" whose beer belly flopped out over the waistband of his skirt beneath the knotted bottom of his peasant blouse, cheerfully grabbed the man who was currently sitting on Elladan's lap by the scruff of the neck and threw him across the sand floor of the tent. He plopped himself on Elladan's lap, causing Elladan's eyes to cross. A high pitched, strangled noise rose in Elladan's throat as he felt his "little lordship' squashed in the process. His mouth opened to scream, but before he could emit so much as a squeak, it was immediately stuffed full of grapes.
Two of the beefy "wenches" decided that dancing would be the way to get Elladan's attention, although unbeknownst to them his attention was still riveted on the pain in his groin. They began to bump and grind on either side of his chair, eliciting more laughter and catcalls from the audience.
For his part, Glorfindel thought he might actually bust a gut from holding in his laughter. Standing poker-faced behind Elladan, still holding the twin in an iron grip to prevent his escape, he thought that this had to be one of the funniest sights he had seen in eons. Elladan was sure to have nightmares about this for quite sometime. Glancing off to the side, Fin spotted Elrohir peeking into the tent. Fin's eyebrows shot up and the laughter died in his throat when he noticed that Losin' Susan was standing just behind 'Ro, with her hand on his shoulder. They were both grinning madly at the sight of Elladan being assaulted by the hirsute "wenches." It took a moment before Glorfindel put two and two together, and realized he'd been set up.
Elrohir cringed as Glorfindel shot him a look that he hadn't seen on the balrog-slayer's face in more centuries than he cared to count. Fin was pissed. Really pissed, and 'Ro suddenly questioned the wisdom of involving Glorfindel in his little plan to get even with 'Dan. He backed out of the tent determined to find someplace to hide where he wouldn't be found until the next millennium.
Pulling himself up to his full height, Glorfindel began pulling the "wenches" off of Elladan, who, released from their attentions, rolled off of the chair onto the floor. Sternly, 'Fin lined the contestants up, and then picked Elladan up by the collar of his tunic, standing him upright.
"Which wench does his Lordship choose?" Glorfindel asked Elladan, whose eyes were still crossed, and was holding both hands over his privates.
"Eep," was all that Elladan could manage to squeak out, having lost the ability to manage intelligent speech right around the same time the 250-pound man had jumped onto his lap.
"So it is decided! The winner of the Wenching Contest isyou!" Fin shouted, pointing randomly to the man standing closest to him in line.
The man gripped both hands above his head in victory, strutting around the tent to the applause and whistles of the audience. Fin waved his hand at the crowd, and steered Elladan toward the backstage area.
Elladan's only thought, aside from wondering if his Elfhood would ever recover, was that the Wenching Contest was his least favorite part of the Faire.